Healing
by Nutmeg
Summary: Post-Emily fic taking place the first night Scully is back in DC


TITLE: Healing (1/1) AUTHOR: Nutmeg E-MAIL: Spooky1321@aol.com DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Yes to Gossamer, and anywhere else please keep my name attached and let me know about it. SPOILERS: Christmas Carol, Emily RATED: PG CLASSIFICATION: VA KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST SUMMARY: Post-Emily fic taking place the first night Scully is back in her DC apartment after returning home. Scully questions her decisions. Safe for both 'shippers and non. DISCLAIMER: The characters are not and never will be mine. They forever belong to almighty Chris Carter and his den of thieves-- I mean Ten Thirteen! FEEDBACK: Please. Both praise and constructive criticism are accepted with open arms. **Author's Note-- Thanks go out to my *incredibly* helpful beta-readers, Smokey, Lindsay, Silver, and Blue. Special thanks and a chocolate cake going out to Silver for being the lynchpin that pulled my story together. You guys are the best!** ............................................................................................................ I want to believe I can conquer it. *I want to believe*. Wouldn't Mulder just jump for joy over that admission? I want to believe I can reclaim full control over my feelings. No pangs of guilt when I see a tiny blond girl in the mall. I don't want to see visions of trusting blue eyes and tiny fingers when I put my cross on in the morning. I want to find the self peace to get through every day without scrutinizing my decision. *You made the right decision. She wasn't meant to be; couldn't live.* This is my mantra as soon as my thoughts turn to her. I will not allow myself -- *can't* allow myself-- to second guess what I know was the right decision. I explained it to Mulder, even as I explained it to myself, that she wasn't meant to be. *But I could have saved her, could have loved her more.* The argument silently rages on in my consciousness as I feel my strength wane. 

*You've never been weak Dana, don't start now. Don't let it get you down.* But it is. It does. I don't know if I can do this anymore. I had just come to terms with being infertile, before the phone calls. Those bastards took from me the ability to have children, but they will never take the mother's instinct from me. I am torn between thanking the lord that they haven't, and wishing they had. At least then I could hold tighter to the control I seem so destined to lose. 

My strength was once my pride, but I feel now that it is a lie. I can almost see it fade, in the same slow, debilitating way my little girl died. 

My strength is a cover, a disguise. The door to my apartment creaks open, but I don't bother to reach for the weapon on my coffee table. I'm too busy keeping up my new facade of strength that serves no purpose but to protect me from those I love. "Scully." His voice reaches me through the cloud of self pity I have created for myself. He sits beside me on the couch where I am curled. Only when his thumb gently wipes the tears from beneath my eyes do I realize I have been crying. Mulder was there for me the whole time. He understood, as he always does, my unspoken feelings. He treated Emily as his own daughter. Protected her the only way he could by tracking down Dr. Calderon; standing beside me; respecting and backing my decision to let her go. Mulder's mere presence has always bolstered me, and I don't know if he realizes it. He kneels on the floor in front of me now, patiently holding my hand and waiting for me to tell him anything I am willing to. I know he will not push me into breaking down my protective walls. Mulder's silent request is only that I open the door and allow him to come in. And suddenly I look into Mulder's eyes and see all the answers. Answers I can find only in Mulder, only in the one who can read my soul. *But you found her, and you had a chance to love her. Maybe she was meant for that too.* His words. His feelings. Not just rationalizations, but an expression only Mulder can make. His *expression* is what brings me back to the surface, saves me from drowning within myself. I had her to love, even if only for such a tiny piece of a lifetime. The truth is still out there, and finding that truth will bring retribution for Emily's death. *I* must find that truth, with Mulder beside me. I must have the real strength, the strength I know I posess. It is in me, and will stay the test of time, unlike its masquerading counterpart. I owe it to Emily, and to myself, to stay strong. 

It is with these thoughts that I reach for that handhold on the top of my facade. I rip it down, and can almost feel myself solidify once more. My strength is no longer a facade, but true and real. I have the strength of Mulder's beliefs, my faith in God, and the convictions of Dana Katherine Scully to assuage my weaknesses. I squeeze Mulder's hand tightly and smile at him. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, I whisper into his shoulder. "Thank you." 

FINI 


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